


the ecstatic gift of life

by unsaidemily



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Death, Discussions of death, Gen, M/M, ghost boyfriends, justin biebers empty pool, willie gets a backstory, willie is a secret justin bieber stan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:00:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26721028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsaidemily/pseuds/unsaidemily
Summary: It seems silly, but sometimes, Alex forgets that they’re ghosts. Which is ridiculous, because if they weren’t, they’d both be in jail cells right now for trespassing on an international celebrity’s property. But being with Willie makes him feel alive, the same way music does.  He finds himself forgetting that they’re actually, well, dead. And that death is scary and sad and sombre.----Alex and Willie visit Justin Bieber's empty pool, but Willie's mind is elsewhere.
Relationships: Alex Mercer/Willie (Julie and The Phantoms), Alex/Willie (Julie and The Phantoms)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 277





	the ecstatic gift of life

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to give Willie a little backstory, sorry if it's a tad sad but...well, they ARE ghosts. I haven't written in months so I'm a little rusty, but the JATP fandom has inspired me to write again! Enjoy!

Hanging out with Willie proves difficult following the Caleb debacle. Even once Willie knew that Alex and his bandmates were okay and somehow freed from Caleb’s mark, he remained reluctant to hang around for too long at the studio or Julie and the Phantom’s shows. But every couple of weeks, when he was ninety-nine percent sure that they were safe from any prying eyes, he’d show up and bring Alex somewhere new and exciting. More abandoned museums, skate parks full of amateurs that Willie absolutely smoked - even if no one could see, and today, Justin Bieber’s empty pool.

Alex wasn’t fully onboard just yet with Justin Bieber’s music, although _“Baby”_ seemed to be a guilty pleasure of Willie’s, and any song that could make him dance like that was a winner in Alex’s book. They’d listened to a playlist of his songs out in the empty backyard as Willie skated the pool, while Alex watched on, enraptured. Maybe one day he’d let himself try it out, if there was a certain skater boy there to hold his hands and make sure he didn’t fall.

Said skater boy was getting progressively more aggressive in his ‘ollies’ and ‘acid drops’ and whatnot, and the added vigour was leading to more mistakes, causing Willie to swear in frustration. Alex hadn’t thought that skating caused Willie that much grief, and the anger was unusual enough to be cause for worry, but he stayed silent and let him deal with whatever it was that was going wrong. Eventually, after a few more heavy-handed attempts, Willie begins to make his way towards where Alex is sat, legs dangling off the edge of the pool. Alex watches as he makes his way over, shoulders tight and feet heavy, practically stomping. Willie flops down beside him with a sigh, and the two sit in silence for a moment, brushing shoulders.

“...You okay, man?” Alex asks, tentative. He can feel the frustration coming off of Willie in waves, and while he doesn’t want to intrude, the angry silence isn’t exactly comfortable.

In response, Willie lets out an aggravated sigh and takes off his helmet, shaking his hair out.

“Yeah. Yeah, all good. Just, skateboarding, y’know.”

Alex doesn’t know, but something tells him even if he was the world-class expert on skateboarding, it still wouldn’t explain what was going on with his boyfriend. He just nods and offers his hand to Willie, looking out at the view from the Hollywood Hills. A smile tugs at his lips when he feels fingers interlock with his own.

After another moment of quiet, another sigh escapes Willie, and he clears his throat.

“Today’s my death day.”

Oh.

It seems silly, but sometimes, Alex forgets that they’re ghosts. Which is ridiculous, because if they weren’t, they’d both be in jail cells right now for trespassing on an international celebrity’s property. But being with Willie makes him feel alive, the same way music does, and sometimes, when he can feel Willie’s hands, solid in his, he finds himself forgetting that they’re actually, well, dead. And that death is scary and sad and sombre, not always a lighthearted ghost adventure.

He squeezes Willie’s hand in acknowledgement and a silent encouragement to continue, if he wishes.

“Usually I’m able to forget that being dead is bad, I mean, skating the streets whenever I want and meeting people like you - I feel like I’m living more than I did when I was alive. Of course, sometimes I have to deal with real-world issues, like the contractually-binding job that I hate, with a really shitty boss,” Willie laughs, but it’s watery and muffled.

But usually, things are good. Like I said, there’s a lot to like here. You can even stay close to the ones you loved when you were a lifer. Then...things like your birthday come around, and you remember that being dead means...death. You have to watch the people you love, live on without you, and it’s never purely a happy occasion - someone always cries. And then…..the death day. God, man, it sucks. My family loved me so much, and the pain I see in them every year on this day...it gets too much sometimes. It reminds me that I’m the reason my mom cries on Thanksgiving when they put out an extra plate and the reason my younger brother was never allowed on a skateboard. They loved me and I never appreciated it as much as I should’ve. No, instead I flung myself into moving traffic because I was in love with the idea of rebellion, and never got to say goodbye to any of them. And now, every year, because of my own stupidity, they have to grieve.”

Willie’s voice had grown bitter as he spoke, and his hands now lay in his lap, balled up into fists. He’d never spoken so candidly and rawly about his death, about how he’d blamed himself. He’d never mentioned his family, so Alex had assumed that perhaps they’d had similar experiences with their parents, and didn’t want to bring up bad memories by asking. But the pain and regret in Willie’s confession makes it clear that it was quite the opposite.

“Do you usually spend this day with them?” Alex asks, hushed so as not to disturb the tension, and quiet enough that Willie could pretend he didn’t hear, if he wanted to. He chances a look at his boyfriend and catches him nodding his head slightly.

“I used to. I mean, after my death in 2005, I disappeared to that dark room for three years and when I came back...everything was so different. I promised myself I’d never leave my family’s side again. And I didn’t. I joined them every day, for breakfast, lunch, dinner, grocery shopping, dog walking, everything. It started to feel like I was actually there, still an active member of the family. But the first death day...it was excruciating, man. My parents just wouldn’t stop crying, and my younger siblings had no idea how to deal with that. Neither did I. I’d never seen my dad cry before.”

Alex finds Willie’s hand again and rubs his thumb comfortingly over his knuckles, a repeated motion to calm them both down. He doesn’t think Willie will continue, too overcome by emotion, but after a second or two, he presses on, like he _needs_ to get this out, right now, or it’ll stay bottled for years to come.

“The next few were just as bad, but eventually it got - better? During the rest of the year, I’d be mentioned in passing and no one would break down, Mom could look at my pictures again, and my dad started painting again. He did a portrait of me, and they hung it in the living room. But still, the anniversary of my death always sucked. More crying, wallowing, sometimes angry shouting at my siblings for being ‘careless’ and following in my footsteps. It got intense sometimes.” He chuckles humorlessly.

“I felt - I _feel_ so, so guilty about it. If I hadn’t tried to get away from those cops by skating into traffic, maybe I’d still be alive, eating dinner with my family and teaching my brother how to skateboard. They’d know so much about me. I’d tell them about my favourite music and movies and videogames and skateboard tricks and I’d tell them about how I wanted to go pro someday.” He pauses. “...I’d tell them I’m gay. In person. With no ghostly clues for them to figure it out.”

Alex breath stutters. “They didn’t know?”

“Nah man, _I_ didn’t even know. When I died I was still convincing myself that I had a crush on Avril Lavigne like everybody else.”

Alex doesn’t know who that is, but he figures now is not the time to ask. Instead, he prompts, “But you let them know?”

This gets a genuine smile out of Willie, and the realisation hits Alex that it's the first one he’s seen on his boyfriend all day. Willie relaxes and leans a little more on Alex, resting his head on his shoulder. Alex in turn rests his head on Willie’s, and allows himself a content smile as they gaze out at the sun setting on the Hollywood sign.

“I let them know,” he affirms. “My sibling, Stevie, came out to my parents when they were sixteen, said they were non-binary. I’ll be honest, I had to look over my parent’s shoulders that night as they googled what exactly non-binary meant, but I was so proud. God, my heart swelled. And my parents...they welcomed Stevie’s name and pronouns with open arms and I just... _collapsed_. They would have accepted me. They would have loved me no matter what. Stevie told them a year later that they were a lesbian, and their reaction was the same. Just unconditional love and pure joy at the ability to _know_ their kids. And I knew I had to let them know who I was, somehow.”

By now the duo are both grinning, and Alex wraps an arm around his boyfriend, shuffling closer in a pseudo-hug. He knows Willie can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks next, hopes he knows how genuinely ecstatic Alex is for him.

“And how did you do that?”

“It was a couple years ago, Stevie was moving out for college and when their room had been packed and cleaned, they and my mom decided to tackle my room for the first time.”

Willie’s voice lowers a bit again, sadness creeping back in.

“It virtually hadn’t been touched in twelve years. I refused to go in there until they did. My bed had been made, but my PS2 was still on the bedside table. My skateboard stuff was still piled in a corner, but my clothes had all been hung up. All my Rolling Stone magazines and Thrashers were in mint condition - could’ve made a pretty penny, but Mom kept some and put the rest in the trash. But it wasn’t that big of a deal, I was just glad they were finally _doing_ something with my room. When they finally started on cleaning up it felt like...I could breathe, you know? I finally felt like I didn’t need to hover around them all the time, like some ineffectual guardian angel. But I wanted my mom to know. I wanted Stevie to know. So, I found an empty copybook, and wrote a fake diary entry.”

Willie clears his throat dramatically and sits up straight, chest puffing out, and delivers in his best presenter voice:

“ _September tenth, two-thousand-and-three. Dear Diary, I think I’ve discovered something about myself that I’m not sure I’m ready to share with the world just yet. The words play on a loop in my mind but I find it so hard to say them out loud. I know that when I say them to another person for the first time, there’ll be no fanfare, no streamers, it’s two simple words. Nothing more, nothing less. But I still can’t do it just yet. So, I’ll write it here. I’m gay. I want to date boys, to hold their hands and take them on skating dates. It’s weird, that it took me sixteen years to come to this conclusion, but it’s so freeing to realise that it’s the truth. One day, I’ll tell mom and dad, and my little siblings, and somehow, I know that they’ll be happy for me. I see how much they care for me, and I know it could never be compromised. I wish I knew how to let them know I love them just as much, that I never want to disappoint or upset them. I hope they know, even if I don’t have the words to tell them. Willie_.”

By the end of his recital Willie’s voice has cracked, tears streaming down his face, and Alex is frantically wiping away his own. He flings his arms around Willie and feels a wet face press into his neck. After a moment, Willie pulls back with a huff of laughter. Tears still well in his eyes but he’s grinning ear to ear and Alex thinks he’s never looked more beautiful. “

I shoved it under one of the dusty pillows, and waited for Mom to find it. She’s always been just a liii-ttle too curious for her own good. Of _course_ when she found it she had to open it, and once she saw ‘Dear Diary,” there was no going back. I couldn’t watch, as she read it. I turned around and stared at my posters until I heard her cry. She cried, and for a split second, one irrational, terrified second, I was worried she’d be upset, that I’d tarnished her memory of me. But she smiled and passed it to Stevie, who read it and managed to laugh through their own tears.They were both so...happy. Happy for me and happy that they got to know a little bit more of me. Stevie whispered that they felt so much closer to me and my mom whispered ‘Me too,’ and just like that, I felt I could move on. I _had_ thought it might be my unfinished business but…” He gestures at his ghostly form, “clearly not.”

“I still visit every death day but this year...I thought I could keep my mind off it, if I was with you. You always calm me down, make me feel safe and at ease.”

Alex’s heart skips a beat at that, and he knows he’s obvious with how adoringly he’s looking at Willie. An idea pops into his head, and he blushes, ducking down.

“Y’know...you could spend it with both your family and me. They sound like incredible people. I’d like to meet them.”

Willie squints at him, thoughtful. Alex would feel embarrassed at his boldness but the jovial look gracing his boyfriend’s features dissuades that. A moment later, Willie is standing up, plopping his helmet back on and holding out a hand to hoist Alex up.

“Yeah. Yeah, they are incredible. I want you to see that firsthand.”

In the time it takes for Alex to right himself and re-adjust his clothes, Willie has already skated down the concrete path towards the front lawn. He turns back, wind whipping the hair that’s escaped his helmet, and flashes a radiant smile.

“Coming, Hotdog?”


End file.
